Splash
by Noia
Summary: What makes a perfect kiss?


Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. It is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers and other people who are much more powerful than I.

Warnings: Severus Snape/ Harry Potter; chan-slash, het, some sex, and some swearing

Splash

by: Noia

It's funny, but as I feel my wandering without my control , all I can do is wonder how this happened. Really. I'm lying there, being held in the arms of the man I love more than anyone else in the world. Happier than I ever could have imagined. And with Severus Snape. Go figure. It probably all started with Severus' voice. _That's what everybody notices about Severus_, I think absentmindedly _It's so low, so velvety, so dark, so easily seductive, making a warm shiver dance down your spine, coiling in your belly..._But I'm digressing_... Oh yes, Severus' voice. Well, for the most part it's used to inflict terror. Neville, for example, has only to hear a voice below the average timbre to collapse in a pile of shivers. By the end of my fifth year that voice made me tremble with a fury unrivaled by almost anything I have ever known. _

That summer, almost all summer, I had to stay at the Dursleys' and I had nothing to do but sit and think. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep; memories of Sirius danced through my head at all times. One night while I was lying in my lumpy Dursley bed, glumly staring at the wall, I rolled over. Glowing in the moonlight was Sirius. His hair shone, his eyes were large and bright. Hope made my breath catch, and he lifted his arms to me. I sat up quickly.

"Sirius!"

He smiled sadly at me.

"Harry..." His voice was so soft and peaceful, with only a soft tinge of regret, that I almost got tangled in my sheets as I dashed into his embrace. Sirius held me tightly.

"I have a place now," he whispered, "You can come stay with me as soon as you're ready." I didn't say anything, couldn't say anything, didn't want to ruin the moment, just enjoyed what it felt like to be held by someone I never thought I would touch again.

When I woke up from that dream, I was crying harder than I ever had in my life.

During the next day I sat in my small room and brooded. Voldemort had been stopped by Dumbledore, but not destroyed. And frankly, I had long since become disenchanted with the headmaster. Dumbledore had let Sirius die, had left so I wouldn't have to, hadn't been there when the school had needed him. Dumbledore's not omnipotent. I wish I had learned that sooner. And then there was Snape. As much as I blamed myself for Sirius' death, I also blamed my potions master. If he had warned Sirius, really warned him, and not pretended to play dumb, Sirius mightn't have gone after me in the first place. And then he felt that he could still taunt me in front of Malfoy! It made my blood boil. So, one can imagine my horror when Snape showed up on the doorstep of Number, 4 Privet Drive, to bring me back to Grimmauld Place.

As surprised as the Dursleys were to find a strange wizard on their doorstep, I must say I was the only one who was absolutely shocked. Not only had he changed from his usual black robes, but he wore his muggle clothes well. Very well. A pair of black slacks and a casually buttoned-down white shirt, and his hair! His characteristic greasy black mop was pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Never mind that Uncle Vernon hates men with long hair, I was rather fascinated. While the Dursleys and I entertained ourselves by staring dumfounded at Snape, he swept (even without his robes he could sweep!) into the house. At this, Uncle Vernon regained his senses.

"What do you want?" he asked, stepping in front of Snape.

"Albus Dumbledore has sent me to retrieve Potter and his possessions." As whenever put in a position where his power is threatened, Uncle Vernon turned purple and blustered.

"What makes you think that you have any right to come into my home and just snatch the boy out of here!" Petunia, Dudley, Snape, and I all turned to stare at Vernon.

"Are you telling me that you want to keep Potter for the rest of the summer?" Snape sneered in disbelief. Vernon opened his mouth to retort, and then closed it again as he thought about what Snape said.

"A valid point," his beady eyes narrowed in acknowledgment, "Do what you need to," He waved his hand dismissively.

"A wise decision," Snape muttered, his hand slipping out of his pocket, where, I felt sure, he had been fingering his wand.

"Well, boy," Uncle Vernon snapped, "Go get your things." I glared at him, then turned my glare on Snape.

"This way," I muttered, going up the stairs. He entered my room behind me and I closed the door.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded. He rolled his eyes.

"Are you deaf, Potter, or are you just too thick-skulled to comprehend what I said earlier? I'm. Here. To-"

"No, I understand _why _you're here, I just don't understand why it's _you_ that came to get me." I snapped as I began to toss my possessions into my trunk.

"I can get you there faster than anyone else." I paused in my rummaging under the loose floorboard.

"When you say 'there' do you mean the headquarters of the Ord-"

"Shut up, don't say the name, you stupid boy!" he said hurriedly. Then, "Yes, that's where we're going." I continued rummaging under the floor, gathering the last of my things when it occurred to me.

"How can you get me there any faster than anybody else who's a member of the...the you know what? Why couldn't Professor Lupin have come?" I asked, piling everything into my trunk and kicking it shut.

"Because I, unlike anyone else, can make this," he said, pulling a small vial out of his pocket.

"And what's that?" I asked coolly, placing Hedwig's cage atop my trunk.

"It's called Transporatous. It's a potion that enables the person who drinks it to be able to be apparated by being in contact with the person who made the potion." My brain fumbled with this for a moment, then came up with the brilliant conclusion:

"That means I have to touch you?" I asked, horrified. I could have sworn that he rolled his eyes.

"Unfortunately." He handed the vial to me. I unscrewed the lid and sniffed uncertainly.

"Drink," he ordered.

"How do I know it's safe?" he raised an eyebrow, and I felt something inside me shrinking at his disdainful gaze. I sighed and drank it all in one gulp, coughing as it burned down my throat. His lips twitched.

"Now put your hands on my shoulders and look into my eyes." Determined not to blush or show how uncomfortable this made me, I set my hands on his shoulders and lifted my eyes to his.

_A drop of water stretching and lengthening until it breaks to fall_

Almost immediately I felt myself falling into his ebony iris, dizzy with a strange exuberant awareness. My knees went weak under me. There was a _Crack! _And my knees gave out entirely. His arms wrapped around my waist to keep me from falling from him as the world jerked away from us.

As soon as I felt solid ground crash underneath my feet I dropped my face to his collar, breathing harshly. I inhaled a sharp citrusy scent as he held me tightly to him, and I could feel the sharp patter of his heartbeat. At almost exactly the same moment we realized to whom we were clinging and let go. He stepped away from me as quickly as possible, and my still-shaky knees allowed me to collapse to the floor.

"I..." his voice was trembling, and he cleared his throat, "I'll go back for you trunk now." He said and with a _pop_ he vanished, leaving me to stagger dazedly to my feet and wonder what the hell just happened. I heard a door open and I was swept up into a massive hug from Mrs. Weasley. I couldn't help grinning.

"Good to see you too, Mrs. Weasely." I said, laughing. She pulled back and smiled widely.

"I've missed you dear," she tried in vain to smooth my hair, "How are you? Do you want something to eat? I know,let's go get you some lunch, everyone else is already in the kitchen."

"Er, I think Snape..._professor_ Snape," I corrected myself, "Is coming with my trunks." She took my hand and led me to the kitchen.

"It's okay, Harry dear, he can just leave them in the hall."

"Well, alright," So I followed her into the kitchen, feeling a sharp pang because I knew that Sirius wouldn't be waiting for me there. However, when I saw all the happy Weasley faces looking at me from around the table I forgot all about Snape and Sirius.

Later that night I was coming in from feeding Buckbeak, and thinking about perhaps asking Hermione about the Transporatous when I saw Ginny standing in front of the door to mine and Ron's room, giggling.

"What?" I asked. She turned to me, still grinning.

"It's Ron and Hermione," she whispered, "they had a huge row."

"And that's funny?" I asked, but she was still smiling so I asked, "What about?"

She raised an eyebrow, "Krum."

I felt a grin start to tug at my lips.

"Oh?"

"Well, they finally had it all out, and it ended in Hermione screaming at the top of her lungs that Ron was a stupid git, why didn't he realize that she loved him, and Ron yelled back that it wasn't his fault, because he'd loved her since second year. And then it got all quiet so I got Fred and George to come down with some of their new extendable eyes, and..." She was overcome by a new fit of giggles, and I found myself grinning broadly too, "Don't tell me," I whispered,

"Yup," she laughed, "They're in there snogging right now." I let out a shout of laughter, and Ginny clamped her hand over my mouth.

"Shh!"

But it was too late. There was a muffled thud and some hurried mutterings. I shrugged at Ginny.

"I guess we'd better go in," she raised an eyebrow.

"After you." A bit anxiously, I opened the door and entered. Ron was beet red and Hermione's hair was even frizzier than usual, but other than that they looked normal.

"Oh, hello, Harry, Ginny...Ron and I were just...," she cleared her throat, "...talking." Ginny giggled, and I couldn't help sniggering. If possible, Ron turned even redder, and stood up hurriedly.

"Well," he said, "I think I fancy a game of chess. Harry?"

"Um, actually," I hedged, "I kinda need to talk to Hermione. Maybe Ginny wants to play."

"Oh, sure," she looked kind of surprised, but followed Ron as he practically scampered from the room. I sat down on the bed next to Hermione.

"So, how was he?" I chuckled.

"Oh," she blushed, "He was fine." I raised my eyebrows. "Well, it was very nice...Harry, are you okay with...us...I mean, me and Ron?" I rolled my eyes.

"Are you kidding? I've been waiting for you two to get together since third year." She giggled. "Really? I didn't think I was being that obvious."

"It wasn't you, it was Ron."

She leaned forward eagerly, "Did he ever say anything?" she asked hopefully.

"Well, no, but everyone could tell." She smiled softly and leaned back against the pillow.

"I suppose subtlety was never really Ron's thing." Then she looked serious, "So, what did you want to talk about?" I think she was hoping I was finally ready to talk about Sirius.

"Oh, yeah," I sat up, remembering why I came downstairs in the first place. "I was wondering what you know about a potion called Transporatous."

"Oooh," she sat up too, looking excited, "Now _that's_ a real potion! It's very difficult to make. Only a potion's master of the absolutely highest caliber can make it properly." I tried not to be impressed at Snape's High Caliber. "It's used to make those who cannot apparate able to do so, as long as they are in contact with someone who can apperate."

"Contact, how?" I asked casually.

"Well, the one who drinks the Transporatous has to place both hands anywhere on the potion maker's body, and eye contact is mandatory."

"Does the, er, potion maker have to touch the potion drinker?"

"No, that's not necessary."

I considered that with mild alarm, but then I realized that Snape would never had to have touched me if I hadn't been on the verge of collapse.

"And," I tried to sound innocently curious, "How does it feel? What are the effects of this?" she waved her hand dismissively.

"Doesn't feel like much, just kind of like a portkey- a yank, a rush, you're there."

"A rush? What do you mean by a rush?" I asked eagerly, and she looked at me suspiciously.

"First I'd like to know why you're so curious."

"Oh," I wilted, "It's nothing, that's just how Snape got me here today."

"Really?" she looked interested, "That means Snape is really an incredible potions master, I had no idea he was so good! He must have-"

"Hermione!" I cut her off, "The rush?"

"Oh, yes," she stumbled back on track, "Well, it's just your basic blustering of air and places whipping past you in an instant." Oh. Well now I was confused.

"Why, what did you feel?" she asked. I tried to figure out how to put it into words.

"Well...I drank the potion, and then put my hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. But when I did I felt kind of dizzy, but it was a happy, amazed kind of dizzy, and I felt all shaky, but I could feel and smell everything stronger. I could taste stronger, all my senses were stronger. When we started to apparate, my knees gave out, and he had to grab me or else I would have let go and then..." I drifted off, realizing that I didn't want to tell Hermione about how tightly Snape and I had held onto each other. "D'you think he might have messed up the potion?" I asked hopefully.

"No," she said decisively," If he had made even the slightest mistake you both would have died the moment he tried to apparate."

"Then what happened?" I asked, frustrated, punching the bed. Hermione was looking at me with a thoughtful and rather surprised look on her face.

"I...think..." she started, then stopped and thought some more, "Well, I have an idea, but I won't tell you until I'm sure." The usual, useful Hermione.

We went back to school without further incident; I didn't even see Snape for the rest of the summer. So, for once, I was almost glad that I was still taking potions because I wanted to ask Snape just what it was, exactly, that he did to me. I thought about him a lot, which wasn't new, but what was different was that I dreamt about him sometimes. Nothing funny, just me glancing at him during dinner in the Great Hall, him watching me while I made a potion in his class, but that in itself was bizarre, because I wasn't mad at Snape, I was just...watching him, and his glances weren't filled with the usual venom, they were just curious.

At the Welcoming Feast I looked for him at the head table. His eyes were already on me. Like in my dreams, he didn't look angry. When our gazes met I felt a faint start in my stomach, and we both looked away quickly.

We didn't see each other again until my first potions lesson of the year, during which Snape gave us a pop quiz on our summer reading. He ignored me completely (and an annoying rattle that was coming from the supply cupboard) until the very last moment when he announced loudly, "Potter, stay after class. I feel sure I saw your eyes wandering during that quiz." I rolled my eyes as Malfoy sniggered.

"Looks like nothing has changed after all," I murmured to Hermione.

She shrugged, "Yeah."

As the rest of the class filed out I stayed seated at my desk and watch Snape walk to the door and slam it shut.

"The headmaster wishes that you continue with Occlumency lesson. Therefore you will meet me tonight, and every other Wednesday night, from six to eight o'clock."

"Wait, but, I thought...Why can't Dumbledore teach me?" I blurted. He turned away.

"The headmaster is a very busy man, Potter. He doesn't have time to piddle away with your problems."

"Oh...of course." I nodded, disappointed. He turned away sharply. "Er, professor?" I started, wondering whether or not I should bring it up now, "The day you brought me to Grimmauld Place...What happened?" I asked hesitantly.

"It's called apperating. Potter, or didn't you know that?" despite his snarky response, I saw his back tense.

"I did know, actually," I snapped angrily, "But I was talking to Hermione and she said what I felt wasn't common with the use of Transperatous." He half turned so that his large nose was thrown into profile.

"What you felt?" he asked, without much interest.

"You..." I began hesitantly, "You didn't feel anything strange...?" he turned to me with something in his eyes that I couldn't read.

"You will be late for you next class, Potter."

Startled, I glanced at my watch, "Bugger!" and dashed from his classroom with his voice echoing behind me, "Six o'clock tonight, Potter!"

That night I opened the door and peered into his office. A disturbing sight met my eyes. I saw myself. I was on my hands and knees, my robes tattered, and blood glistening as it ran from hundreds of wounds, forming crimson rivers on the stone floor. I was reaching out a shaking hand to Snape who was backed up against a wall as I crawled towards him. A choked, "Why?" came from my lips. "You were supposed to protect me."

Snape flinched, his wand hanging limply and uselessly at his side. His eyes were wide, and he was trembling. "Why?" I croaked again, "Why didn't you save me?" and then I collapsed to the floor, barely more than a thin puddle of robes and blood and flesh. Snape inhaled a deep, shuddering breath, and turned away from my corpse. "Ri-ridiculous," he muttered.

_What? _I though, then I realized what was going on. The thumping we had heard from the supply cupboard was a boggart, and for some reason, my death was Snape's worst fear. Though I was uncertain about the wisdom of my actions, I threw open the door and ran into the room.

"Riddikulus!" I cried, and with a _crack!_ the boggart vanished. Snape's hands unclenched, and his wand clatter to the floor.

"Professor?" I said uncertainly. He didn't move. "Professor Snape?" I approached him, knelt down and picked up his wand. He turned to me.

"Potter," he said.

"Yes, sir." He looked at me, his eyes wild for a moment, then they focused.

"My wand, Potter." I held it out and he reached to take it from me. His fingers caressed mine and we shared a blissful shiver for a long moment, before he snatched his wand away.

"Thank you," he said curtly, striding across the room.

"Er...no problem," I muttered, brain still whirling with question, most along the lines of _Why the hell would Snape care if I died? _Which was immediately met by the rebuttal _The entire wizarding world would care if you died!_ I had a point. But still, it being the thing he feared the most? _That_ made no sense.

"Well, Potter," Snape's voice was now back to its calm, controlling mode, snapped me out of my thoughts, "We'll see how much skill you have retained at Legilemency."

"But, er," I said uncertainly. _How can he pretend that didn't just happen?_

"Relax your mind," he said, persistently ignoring my protests.

I was beginning to feel annoyed with him.

"Empty your thoughts,"

_Oh God, here we go again._

"Legilemens!"

Hundreds of silvery ghosts laughing at a game of Head Polo...Pulling Ron and Gabriel out of the lake...lying in my cupboard, praying that someone would come and take me away from the Dursley's...placing my hands on Snape's shoulders and falling into his eyes, feeling a suffocating ecstasy swoop in my stomach, making my knees go weak...

Here I felt a stumble in Snape's swift shifting through my thoughts, a little shock of surprise. Seizing this opportunity, I pushed hard with my thoughts, forcing him out of my head and gleefully diving into his mind.

A little boy happily gathering mushrooms with a tall woman...the same boy, a few years later, anxiously sitting with the sorting hat falling over his eyes...a greasy haired-teen being seductively pressed up against a wall by a beautiful blond boy, closing his eyes as he was kissed...

I stopped, shocked. It was Lucius Malfoy.

And with that I was hurtling back into my own memories. I resisted as hard as I could. Then I was on my knees, breathing heavily, while Snape clutched his desk, also panting.

"Better," he admitted. I got up, my knees and scar stinging.

"Thanks, sir," I said bitterly.

"I think that's enough for the evening," he said, sweeping to the door.

"Snape? _Sir,_" I corrected myself as he raised an eyebrow at me, "Can we talk?" His eyebrow jacked up a little more,

"Why yes, Potter, I believe this exchange of sounds _is _known as talking." Trying desperately not to let my temper get the better of me, I clarified,

"I meant, sir, I'd like to discuss certain events that have recently occurred."

"That's what your head of house is for, Potter."

Barely keeping a lid on my anger I shot back, "I'd rather discuss them with you...Sir."

"Well I'd rather you discuss them with Professor McGonagall."

"But-"

"Good night, Potter." He opened the door to his office, flicked his wand, and I felt my feet walk, without my consent, out the door.

"Professor-!" and the door slammed shut behind me.

"Dammit."

I was up until midnight with Ron and Hermione discussing all the revelations I'd had in Snape's office. Ron was especially shocked at the realization of Snape's boggart.

"But, why would he want you alive?" he wondered aloud.

"Oi, thanks very much," I grinned.

"Well, we learned first year that he _did_ in fact want Harry alive," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, but that was just to pay back Harry's dad. He could do anything he wanted to Harry now." Ron argued.

"I think what it must be, is if Harry died, than Voldemort would come into power, and Snape would have to betray Dumbledore or die." Hermione said, looking pleased with her logic.

"But the thing is," I said, thinking, "As boggart-me was dying, I was blaming Snape, telling him that it was his fault that I was dying. And he acted like that was the part that he really feared,"

Hermione got that thoughtful look in her eyes again.

"I wonder..." she trailed off.

Ron and I rolled our eyes.

"Well, while she's busy wondering, want to hear something weird?" I asked Ron. He nodded, "Guess which two future death eaters had a tryst in their schooldays?" At this, Hermione's pensive expression abruptly changed to curiosity, while Ron looked mildly revolted.

"Ew..." he whined, then on second thought, asked, "Who?"

"Snape and-"

"Who would do anything with Snape?" he wondered. Hermione hushed him.

"Snape," I repeated, "And Lucius Malfoy."

Ron's horrified yells had to be muffled in a cushion before he woke up the whole of Gryffindor tower.

The next week passed with no major Snape-related incidents, unless one is inclined to include his sending of a first year to the hospital wing in hysterics for blowing up her cauldron. As a result, the next Wednesday I went down to the dungeons not expecting problems.

"My, my, my," came a cold drawl, just as I was reaching Snape's office. "What is little bitty Potty doing out all by himself in the big, scary dungeons?" Echoey guffaws.

"Bugger off, Malfoy."

"Oh, I don't think so, Potty," Malfoy swaggered out of the shadows, "What _are_ you doing in the dungeons?"

"None of your business," I snapped, debating whether it was worth the effort of provoking him in order to get into a fight and release some built up tension.

"Actually," he said advancing, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, "As a prefect, I can get whatever I want from you."

"Yeah?" I asked, pulling out my wand as he drew his, and deciding, yes, provoking him was worth the trouble, "Your daddy thought that he could get whatever he wanted from me, and look what happened to him."

"Why you-" Malfoy swung up his wand, but I was too fast for him. I got my hex out first, and he fell to the ground with a harsh exhalation.

"Expalliarmus!" I cried, and his wand flew towards me, but as it came into my line of vision, so did a fist.

"Oof!" I fell back, stars crossing my eyes as Crabbe's knuckles collided with my jaw. When I blinked my gaze clear I saw Malfoy raise his recovered wand and bring it down in the same slashing movement I'd seen the death eater use on Hermione. _Oh, crap._ But apparently Malfoy wasn't powerful enough and it just made cuts spring up on my body. (I use the term "just" loosely; it stung like hell.) I cried out and performed a quick nose-bleed curse as I heard a door open. Goyle kicked me to my knees as they ran around the corner and further into the depths of the dungeons.

I bent my forehead to the ground, panting, but a panicked, "Oh, God!" made me look up.

Snape was looking at me in horror, all the blood drained from his face. He took a halting step towards me. There was absolute terror written over all his features, but it was only a few cuts, not nearly bad enough to justify the way he looked petrified by fear...Then it hit me that I was almost exactly mimicking the behavior of Snape's boggart.

"No!" I said, and he jumped back as though the word had burned. "Nono!" I said again, getting to my feet, "I'm okay. I just...Malfoy attacked me sir."

At an alarmingly fast rate, all the blood rushed back into Snape's face causing a strangely attractive flush in his cheeks.

"Of course," he sneered, albeit shakily, "We all know that Harry Potter is never responsible for his own foolish injuries." I was about to spout out an indignant comeback, but instead I restrained myself and said tersely,

"Of course, sir. May I visit the hospital wing, sir?"

"A waste of time," he said, striding to his office with me wincing along behind him, "I can heal you and still have time for you lesson. I won't allow you to worm your way out of it." He closed the door behind us. "Why did you provoke Draco?" he asked, looking over my wounds carefully. I shivered.

"He provoked me first. Sir."

"Five points from Gryffindor," he said, sounding bored.

I sighed, "Yessir."

He waved his wand, muttering, "Restoratum," and the cuts all over my body vanished with a tingle. The bruised cut from where Crabbe had punched me remained, and Snape leaned forward to examine it, his long fingers softly cupping the other side of my face.

Contrary to my childhood belief, His fingers were not ice-cold, and in fact, a warmth seemed to pass through his hand to me, and I felt sure I was blushing, and he moved to withdraw his hand, and it felt more like a caress, and I gasped, and he froze, and his eyes darted to meet mine, and I realized with a sudden heady rush 'oh my god, I think I want Snape,' and then I kissed him and the world stood still.

_A drop of water stretching and lengthening until it breaks to fall; fire licking away at a crumbling log; a stalk appearing, growing, blooming; a perfectly round moon swinging in a velvet black sky; the drop falling and colliding on the surface of a pool with a_

_Splash!_

A wave of heat crashed over me as Snape's lips pressed against mine, no uncertainty whatsoever in the mindless passion. His teeth closed, fiercely gentle, on my bottom, and I opened my mouth to him. Our tongues met; I moaned. His hands tangled themselves in my hair, and I clutched the front of his robes, stars flashing behind my closed lids. One kiss melted into two, into three, four.

He tore his mouth away from mine to suck in a gasping breath, and I opened my eyes long enough for the thought _What the hell?_ to cross my mind. I reached a shaking hand up to brush his hair away from his face. _It's not so greasy_ flashed through my head, quickly followed again by, _What the hell?_

His hand came up and clasped mine, bringing it down and gazing at it for a long moment. Then abruptly, he dropped my hand and stepped back. Confused, but wanting another kiss, I started forward. He shoved me from him, and I staggered, bumping into a shelf full of jars that rattled ominously. I could see the words, "Get out," forming on his lips. I didn't want to hear them so I dashed from the room as quickly as possible, slamming the door behind me.

I entered the Common Room to find it empty save for Ron and Hermione, who were snogging in an armchair.

"Ugh, you two," I said with a grin, temporarily forgetting my own problems, "Couldn't you have gone to room of requirement? Or at least found a spare broom cupboard?"

They sprang apart, and Ron fell with a thunk to the floor. Hermione coughed, straightening her clothes and pulling her hair from her eyes.

"Hallo, Harry," she said hesitantly. Ron scrambled to his feet, face radiating heat.

"I'm, er, just gonna, ahem, go to bed now..." he said, trying desperately to be casual, "G'night, Harry, Hermione," he nodded, then practically dashed up the stairs to the boys dormitory. Hermione's eyes followed him and her expression was soft and happy.

"Real catch you've got there," I chuckled, moving to perch on the armrest of the chair, "Where'd you dig him up?" She smiled contently at me.

"I think I really love him, Harry."

"That's great Hermione. I'm really happy for you two," I said, even though I wasn't entirely sure if I _was _happy about it. Jealousy clenched at my insides at the thought of their normal, happy relationship, in comparison to my Whatever-the-hell-it-was with Snape. And sure, it was nice of them to wait for me to go to occlumency lessons before they went at it, but I just felt like now it might make things weird. Well, weirder, in any case. Which reminded me again of what had just happened in Snape's office. I really wanted to talk to Hermione about it, but I felt I couldn't just change the subject, not with her looking all flushed and happy.

"So..." I started. She shook her head.

"I don't want to talk about it quite yet," They dreamy look was slowly fading from her eyes, and she sat up, looking at me carefully. "How was occlumency? You look a little pale." I looked around anxiously. Should I tell her?

"Well," I hedged, sliding down so that I was sitting in the armchair with her, and Crookshanks hopped into my lap. To stall for time I scratched his ears, and he purred, curling into a fuzzy little ball in my lap.

"You have to promise not to tell anyone." She nodded, "Even Ron," I added, thinking how Ron might react to the idea of my kissing Snape, and flinching as I pictured his reaction upon discovering that I had actually enjoyed it. She looked surprised and concerned.

"Okay," she said, although she sounded a little guilty about hiding something from her newly discovered One True Love. She leaned forward.

"How did you get that cut on your chin?" Relieved at a temporary diversion, I dove into the story.

"Oh, well, on the way to Snape's office," I blushed slightly, "I ran into Malfoy. We insulted each other, and he went to curse me, but I got his wand. Then Crabbe punched me."

"Why didn't you go to the hospital wing?" she asked as though I hadn't thought of that myself.

"Because Malfoy got his wand back and used some hex on me that cut me to pieces. Hey," I noticed, glancing down at myself, "that spell fixed my robes too."

"Huh?" she asked.

"Never mind. Anyway, Snape came out, and I think he thought that he was seeing his boggart-incarnate. Well, when he found out he wasn't, he felt so dumb that he said he could heal me himself." Hermione was looking at me expectantly, as though waiting for more. "He did," I added as an afterthought, "Heal me himself, that is," Great, now I really sounded like I was hiding something.

"And?" she prompted.

"And," I flushed, "Look Hermione, you have to promise not to tell anyone." She sighed.

"Harry, did something happen between you and Snape?" I started so sharply that Crookshanks jumped out of my lap with a hiss. I leaned forward nervously.

"How did you know that?" I whispered, feeling rather paranoid.

"It was just an educated guess," she said, then at my look of panic, she rolled her eyes, "Don't worry, nobody else would have noticed." I relaxed marginally. "So what happened?" she asked.

"We kissed," I muttered, then blushed harder, "Well, rather, I kissed him, but I'm pretty sure he was kissing me back."

"And then?"

"And then nothing," I snapped, "He was going to tell me to leave. So I left."

She nodded thoughtfully.

"Well?" I asked, "Why aren't you more disgusted by this?" I paused, then added, worriedly, "Why aren't _I_ more disgusted by this?"

"Um, well, Harry," she said, taking my hand, "I've actually seen this coming ever since you told me about the Transporatous."

"What?" I sneered, "He's always hated me!" Hermione patted my hand sympathetically.

"Maybe you only perceived it as hate," she said. I stared at her in disbelief. "Well, yes, he's always been quite evil to you," she amended, "but maybe it was just self-defense." I must have still looked doubtful, because she went on, "I mean, look at it logically, he's always been obsessed with you, and you with him, but with Draco being his daddy's little spy, really, picking on you was actually his only way of doting on you."

"Uh-huh."

"No, seriously, listen." She squeezed my hand earnestly, "First year, what's the first thing Snape does?"

"Stare at me and make me dream about him on my first night at Hogwarts?" I muttered sullenly. She looked surprised.

"That works too, but I was going to say that first day of class, all he did was focus on you. Not Draco, you." I opened my mouth to protest, but she went on. "What does he do next? Oh yes, save your life,"

"That was only to repay a debt he owed to my father!" I protested quickly.

"If that was all it was then why did he make the entire faculty hate him by refereeing the next Quidditch match? He'd already repaid your father. Why'd he follow you around in the end of the year, making sure Quirrel wouldn't attack you?"

"Maybe he felt his debt wasn't fully repaid yet?" I offered weakly. She raised an eyebrow.

"That was a shaky excuse to begin with, honestly Harry,"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Second year," she continued doggedly, "He continues to be the first one on the scene whenever you're in danger, even though he's not even your Head of House-"

"Just trying to get me in trouble,"

"But did you ever get in trouble?"

"Well, no, but only because Dumbledore-"

"Always saw straight through Snape's façade. Third year- do I really need to go on?"

"Nono, I get the point Hermione. Now," I said, standing up, "This is all well and good, but you've got to admit, you're looking at it from a very skewed perspective."

"Not so skewed," she said softly, standing up and putting her hand on my shoulder, "Even if he wasn't, through unavoidable circumstances, forced to be cruel to you, what could he have done to an eleven year old boy? No matter what Ron may think, Snape's not a monster. Like I've already said, it was probably just self-defense. He's been waiting for you to grow up. Maybe now that you're sixteen you're finally ready to accept it."

Horrified, I jumped away from her.

"It what?" I asked in panic, "Accept what?"

She smiled and sat back down. "Harry, breath," she intoned gently. Taking deep breath I plunked down beside her.

"Good," she soothed.

"But what about Cho?" I asked, "I'm straight!" Hermione chuckled.

"Harry, what was it like when you kissed Cho?"

"Well," I considered, "It was salty because she was crying, and," _God I'm pathetic_, "I guess it was just kind of depressing."

"Uh-huh. And what was it like when you kissed Snape?"

_Oh, crap, of all people..._

"It was incredible," I admitted glumly.

"Uh-huh," she said again, annoyingly confident.

"Harry, I think you're old enough now to accept that you and Snape...Well..." she looked content, but a little sad, "You make sense. You fit."

__

_A perfectly round moon swinging in a velvet black sky_

"Yeah," I leaned back against the chair, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

We sat silently for a few moments.

"So what are you waiting for?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"Why aren't you going down to see him right now?"

"What, now? Shouldn't I give it a little time?" She snorted.

"We're talking about Snape, Harry. When has it ever been a good idea to give Snape a little time?"

"Good point," I conceded, recalling how Snape had treated Sirius, even twelve years after he had last seen him. _Oh God, what would Sirius think?_ No, don't think about that.

"So what do I do?" I asked.

"Well, first thing," she said, tapping my knee, "You go get your invisibility cloak. Second," another tap, "You make it to the dungeons without running into Filch or Mrs. Norris. Three," tap, "You let Snape know that you know, and that it's okay." And with a poke it the side, "Now go, it's almost midnight."

I dashed up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, and luckily for me, Ron actually had gone to bed, and so he didn't hear me rummaging around my trunk for the cloak. When I returned to the common room, Hermione was already waiting to let me out of the portrait hole.

"Well," I said as she smiled at me while I yanked the cloak on, "Aren't you going to wish me luck?" Her eyes softened.

"You don't need luck." She whispered as she opened the door.

It wasn't until I was standing in front of Snape's office door that it occurred to me that he probably wouldn't let me in. Praying to whoever was listening, I tried the door. It swung open easily. Hardly believing my own luck and Snape's stupidity I crept into his office. He was at his desk, and initially I thought that he was grading papers, but he hadn't even looked up when I came in so I knew it was something else. In utter silence I sneaked behind him so that I could read what he has written.

**Albus –**

**Please accept my resignation from my position of Hogwarts potion's master. While I'm certain that you won't simply respect my freedom of will, I beg of you to please just accept that –**

Here Snape was stuck, his quill frozen in his hand, staring at the parchment, and it occurred to me for the second time that night, _God, I do need him._ I started when he continued writing.

**I have done something horribly wrong.**

Without thinking I snapped, "It's not like you slept with me or anything, for godsakes!" Snape jumped and whirled around, staring wildly .

"Oh," I took off my cloak.

"How did you get in here?" he asked, moving quickly so that the desk was between us. I casually placed my invisibility cloak on the back of his chair.

"You left the door unlocked."

"What? Oh, hell," he flicked his wand, and I heard some clicks coming from inside the door. I was locked in a room with Snape; I couldn't tell whether the idea was exciting or terrifying, but I decided to go forward with as much self-confidence as possible. I picked up his letter of resignation.

"'I have done something horribly wrong'?" I read aloud and looked up.

"Am I really that bad of a kisser?" I tried to make it sound like teasing, but really, I was suddenly feeling very insecure. "I mean," I said, walking around the desk towards Snape, while he backed away so the desk remained between us, "I don't know about you, but that was the most amazing kiss I've...ever had..." I didn't think it would be wise to tell him that he was only my second kiss.

"It was wrong," he muttered, "It doesn't matter whether or not you enjoyed it. I am old enough to be your father."

"So what?" I burst out annoyed, "I'm sixteen! I'm legally able to make my own decisions."

"I won't allow you the option of this decision!" Snape's face was growing rather red, "I'm leaving as soon as I give my resignation to the Headmaster."

"Oh, yeah?" I said, much more bravely than I felt. Screwing up my courage, I tossed the parchment into the fire.

"What-"

"Where were you planning on going?" I walked around the desk, and this time he didn't back away. From the widening of his eyes, I could tell he hadn't actually gotten that far in his planning.

"I..." he said as I approached him. "Somewhere," his voice was raspy. I stood in front of him, my heart pounding. I reached a trembling hand to trace my fingers along his jaw. It was rough with stubble, and he sucked in a harsh breath.

"Somewhere where you can't tempt me," he breathed. I stood on my toes so that I could bury my nose in his hair, inhaling the citrus smell that had been haunting me since August.

"Please," I whispered, letting my lips brush his ear. He shivered. "You want me," my hand brushed through his hair, "And I want you," I kissed the soft skin underneath his ear, just where his jaw met his neck. He let out a breath that was more like a moan. "We both live dangerous lives. Why can't we have this one...release?"

His hands grasped my shoulders and pulled me back to look at him. Slowly he lifted his hand and removed my glasses, setting them on his desk. My vision blurred slightly, but it didn't matter because all I could see was the deep black of his eyes. His hands cupped my cheeks and turned my face up so my lips met his.

_A stalk appearing, growing, blooming_

It was easy and gentle, but expressive of years of pent-up emotions. The feeling in that kiss was so overwhelming that after it ended, all I could do was cling to him, burying my face against the crook of his neck. He exhaled softly, eyes falling shut as his arms snaked around my waist, holding me loosely as though he was afraid that if he held too tightly I would slip right out of his grasp. Rather nervously, I pulled the collar of his robes open and kissed his throat. He quivered. I pressed my mouth to him so he could feel, rather than see, my smile. His arms tightened around me, pulling me closer to him. Barely believing my own daring I kissed his neck again. And again. And again, nuzzling behind his ear, giving him a soft lick to his jaw. At this he gave a small growl and pushed me way from him.

I staggered back, thumping into his desk. My vision was too blurry to see any more than a dark shape swooping down on me before hot lips were ravishing my own. Oh, god, I could feel my arousal start to pulse to life, and he could feel it too, pressing into his thigh. Then he was pulling me up and walking me to the door at the back of his office, stopping along the way to press me up against the wall and grind his hips against mine. I pulled my mouth away.

"Ah!"

It was all I could do to cooperate when he yanked my shirt off. His eyes devoured my naked chest.

"Oh, God," he moaned, kissing my collarbone, "I want you right here," my unsteady hands worked to get his robes off, "Right now," his black robes pooled on the floor, and I threaded my fingers in his hair.

"Then have me," I whispered. He stared into my eyes for a long moment before I pulled his mouth to mine, and we staggered through the door into his private quarters.

In a fit of strength of which I was no longer capable, he tossed me onto his bed. Even without my glasses I could tell that he was drinking in the sight of me, lying on his bed, just waiting for him. I held out my arms and he pushed me onto my back, straddling my hips and kissing me so hard that my eyes rolled back in my head.

He collapsed beside me, panting. For a few minutes we lay there in a sweaty, silent, tangle of limbs. Eventually I gathered together the energy to roll over and kiss him languidly. He pulled back traced his fingertips up and down my sides.

"You shouldn't have said that," he murmured softly.

"Mmm?" I asked, looking up from nuzzling his neck.

"When you," he clarified, "you said you loved me," he stroked my hair sadly, "you shouldn't have said that,"

"But I-" He silenced me with a kiss. I sighed.

"Have it your way," I said, snuggling back against his chest, feeling ridiculously infatuated, and figuring I'd wait a week and try again.

"I believe I just did," he smirked, looping an arm around my waist.

"Haha," I yawned sleepily. As I dropped off I felt his fingers lightly tracing my back.

"Welcome," I said, my voice high and cold.

"Thank you, my Lord," four voices chimed together, two of them low and stupid and two high and smooth.

"Tonight is the start of the rest of your life," the four smirked with anticipation, "With this transformation will come more power than you have ever known. And if you try to abuse that power, you will regret it more than you can possibly imagine."

The four shifted nervously. I looked each on of them in the eyes in turn, and they slipped their gazes away from mine in what they must have thought was a respectful manner. I felt a stirring of annoyance. More cowards.

"Remove your shirts."

They hurried to do my bidding. I rolled up my sleeves and found them looking at me.

"Fools, you know what to do next," I snapped. All four of them fumbled for their wands, then used them to cut the palms of their hands, crimson blossoming over pale skin. The girl squeaked as she did so. I glared at her and she hurried to catch up with the other three as they smeared their own blood, first on their right forearm, then over their heart.

"With this action," I said, dipping my finger into the blood gathering in their palms until I had a mixture of all staining my index finger,

"I will bind you to me," I held my finger hoveringly over The Dark Mark on my arm, smiling at their obvious fear.

"Congratulations," and I pressed their blood to the mark, laughing over their shrieks of pain.

"Harry! Harry, wake up!" the laughter died in my throat as Severus shook me awake.

"Oh God!" I said urgently.

"Harry," he leaned over me, holding me down as my muscles twitched, "are you alright?" He quickly wiped the tears from my cheeks.

"My scar is going to split my head open," I muttered. His cool fingers gently traced my forehead, soothing the ache that burned there.

"What did you see?"

I shivered, and he wrapped me closer to him.

"Voldemort has initiated four new death eaters." He tensed.

"Did you recognize their faces?" he asked into my hair.

"Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Pansy Parkinson, and Draco Malfoy." I said, all in one breath. He let go and sat up abruptly.

"What? Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Absolutely."

He stood up and began to pace. I rolled over and groped for my glasses on the bedside table. I found them and put them on. Now I could see the flicking of Snape's dressing gown as he walked back and fourth, the worried furrow of his forehead, the movement of his lips as he muttered to himself.

"Um...Severus?" I tried. He stopped abruptly and looked at me. "Can I call you that?" I backpedaled uncertainly. He sighed.

"Yes, I suppose in here you must."

"Severus?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Yes?"

"Should I tell the headmaster?"

"I'm not sure," he said slowly, "We established that the Dark Lord can send you altered visions. We can't be sure that what you saw was true. This could just be a new ploy against you."

"But how could this harm me?"

He looked at me like I was an idiot.

"I don't know, but I'm sure He could manage it. I do know that no one has ever been made a death eater while still in school. At least, not at Hogwarts. Even He doesn't dare do that right under Dumbledore's nose." He started pacing again, "And if they were made death eaters tonight, should I indicate that I know? If I can't talk to them about it's because He didn't tell me that he made them. Maybe he's expecting me to figure it out on my own. In which case, I certainly wouldn't inform Dumbledore, which, of course, I will,"

"Well," I reasoned, "It's not like Professor Dumbledore will walk on up to Malfoy and congratulate him on his new promotion if he _did_ know."

He stopped and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose you should go tell the Headmaster immediately," he paused, then added, "His password is butterbeer."

"D'you think this could mean that Voldemort's planning an attack at Hogwarts?"

Severus stiffened.

"Dear God, I hope not."

Shyly, I crawled behind him and wrapped my arms around his thin torso. He sighed and leaned back, letting his eyes fall shut. Though I didn't quite think it fit the situation, I suddenly, desperately wanted a kiss. Maybe it was all the talk of Voldemort, but I had a heightened awareness of my own mortality. I wasn't going to live forever.

I hooked his chin with my index fingers and turned it so I could lean in for a kiss. A sweet lingering press of lips and he pulled back. I leaned our foreheads together.

"You are..." he murmured.

Then he untangled himself from my arms, as if he changed his mind.

"It's almost five in the morning," he said, business-like now, "You have to go tell the headmaster about your vision."

I sighed.

"Yeah," I got up and started looking for my pants.

"We will have to continue your occlumency lessons, of course. You should come in tonight."

I buttoned my fly and turned around with a small grin.

"Do you mean-?"

He wasn't smiling at all.

"I mean literal occlumency lessons. We shouldn't have done...what we did tonight. If you'd had your lesson, perhaps you wouldn't have had that vision. If it ends up causing you any harm, it will have been my fault."

"Shut up, you." It was my turn to roll my eyes, "What we did was incredible, and there's no way something that," I fished for a word, and stupidly repeated, "something that incredible could cause any harm...But if it makes you feel any better, I'll try to keep my hands off you until _after_ lessons." I reassured him as I pulled on my sneakers. He snorted, and I came up to him.

"You don't believe me?" I asked, cautiously climbing into his lap.

"Somehow, I have problems taking your word seriously."

I pressed my lips to his, attacking his mouth with my own. I pulled back panting, but pleased to see Severus looking glassy-eyed.

"I wonder why," I said dryly as I got up, "Now if you'll excuse me, _I_ have a job to do...Have you seen my shirt?"

Noia's note: Well, that's it for now. I suppose I can post more if y'all decide that you like it. I think I have a rather clever ending stored away somewhere...


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